


Beware of New Recruits… They Could Be Hazardous to Your Health

by DebbieF



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen, Sort of humorous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-18 20:05:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4718801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebbieF/pseuds/DebbieF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just something I came up with during my lunchtime at work. Couldn't put it up last night as Archive was down.<br/>This is a stand alone fic.</p><p>++++</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Captain Treville’s office_

Captain Treville was upset, Athos was upset, they were all upset because d’Artagnan had landed in the infirmary with a concussion. How he had gotten in that condition was a mystery until now as they awaited an explanation from Aramis who had just come from the infirmary where he had checked with Doctor Devereaux on how fared their young one.

“Remember, Captain, you had several units out patrolling the city today because there had been numerous incidents of unrest?” Aramis noted the confirming nod Treville gave him. “Apparently when d’Artagnan, Rene and Bernard were passing the Hawk’s Den they were startled when one of its patrons flew out the door to land in a heap at their feet,” he huffed as Aramis removed his hat and batted it against his leg in frustration. “It was then they entered the tavern to find at least six men engaged in a huge brawl.”

Porthos picked up the tale from this point as it was told by him from Rene. “All of em' tried to stop the fightin' when another unit of Musketeers passed by and heard the ruckus and went inside to lend assistance,” the expression on his face spoke of what he’d like to do to the person that harmed their pup. He was just itching to land a good one where it would count. “They had a damn new recruit with them goin' by the name of Brinelle!” Porthos watched as both Treville and Athos appeared to mull over that information trying to place a familiar face with the name.

“ _Brinelle_ , being new, still didn’t know most of our Musketeers by sight,” Aramis continued as he rubbed his brow.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Treville shook his head. “Please don’t tell me what I think you’re about too.”

“Apologies in advance, sir,” Aramis grimaced. “But it is as you fear. In trying to break apart the fight, Brinelle did not see d’Artagnan’s pauldron on his shoulder and of course didn’t know who our lad even was.”

“He took his musket and bashed it against d’Artagnan’s head which knocked our whelp senseless,” Porthos growled. “I’m hopin’ the kid's gonna be okay.”

“Rene said d’Artagnan dropped like a stone to the floor unconscious,” Aramis was furious at what had befallen their youngest. “Bernard told me he had to pull Rene off of Brinelle as he was ready to take the recruit apart.”

“Where is this Brinelle now?” Athos asked, barely containing his anger. His blue eyes were full of fire and retribution that he wanted for their boy. Considering that it was one of their very own that did the dreadful deed, Athos figured they'd have to approach this man's punishment differently.

“Actually,” Aramis smirked, “last I heard he was hiding out in the stables.”

“Let me at em’,” Porthos rolled up his sleeves ready to beat Brinelle to a pulp. Plus it was a great way to work off his pent up emotions despite earning himself some bruised knuckles.

“Porthos, stand down,” Treville ordered gently, though he could understand the sentiment behind his man's words. “First let us all see if d’Artagnan’s awake then I will talk to Brinelle,” he rubbed his chin. “Evidently I’ll have to install a new rule about making sure our new recruits get acquainted with the men in our regiment before sending them off on assignments," he sighed deeply. "We have enough problems around here without my worrying about this type of thing happening again."

"Shame no one bothered to introduce this _Brinelle_ to us," Porthos grunted. "It might have saved poor d'Art a sore head."

“We can talk more about this later. For now let us see to d'Artagnan,” Athos said anxiously, for he wanted to be with the lad to see for himself how badly their pup was injured.

++++

_Infirmary_

“I’m all right,” d’Artagnan sat up in bed, aided by Athos who sat beside him on a chair that threatened to tip over if he moved the wrong way. Rubbing at the back of his head, d'Artagnan winced in pain. “Who do I owe my thanks for this headache?” his eyes darted around his bed taking in the concerned faces staring back at him. "I know it wasn't you, Athos nor Porthos and Aramis for none of you were there."

"Ya saying that we'd clobber ya when ya wasn't lookin'," Porthos frowned in displeasure at the younger man's remark.

"Accidents happen whenever you three are around me." Becoming slightly dizzy again, d'Artagnan laid his head on Athos' solid shoulder.

"You've got a concussion," Athos whispered. "Take it easy." Feeling the lad tuck his head further into the crook of his neck, Athos felt a wealth of love for the boy fill his heart.

Stepping forward, Rene's eyes zeroed in on the goose egg on the back of d'Artagnan's skull and he wished again that he could turn back time to stop the boy's mishap from happening. “It was a new recruit, d’Artagnan. His name's Brinelle.”

"His name's _mud_ by the time I'm through with em'," Porthos snapped, not caring that the captain had told him to stand down.

“He couldn’t tell a king's Musketeer from the common rabble in that tavern?” Lifting his head off of Athos' shoulder for a moment, d’Artagnan’s fingers roamed over the back of his head again as he hit a tender area. “Ouch!”

Grabbing the boy’s hand, Athos gripped it tightly in his own. “Stop that,” he admonished gently. “You’ve enough aches and pains to deal with. No sense adding to them.”

“I assume after today’s incident this Brinelle will now recognize me by sight?” D’Artagnan’s vision wasn’t at its best since being clocked on the head, so everyone appeared a bit out of focus. Still he could tell who he was talking too as he directed his question to Rene.

“He does now,” Rene grinned. “Bernard and I struggled to get you back to the garrison as fast as we could while we left the other squad to deal with the patrons who were fighting. When we left the infirmary there were a bunch of our guys wanting to know what happened to you. After we told them and then Brinelle arrived back later," Rene chuckled as he pictured this in his mind, "it's a sight I won't forget anytime soon I can tell you that, d'Artagnan. I swear I never saw a man run so fast as Brinelle did when he realized how mad the other Musketeers were at him. He went into hiding for fear of his life," he shrugged. "That was the last time anyone saw him until Serge told us he spotted Brinelle ducking into the stables."

"Oui," Aramis smiled, "I heard Serge wanted to take his cast iron skillet to Brinelle's head."

Laughing, or trying too without causing his headache to worsen, d’Artagnan felt better upon hearing that. “Captain,” he gazed upon Treville’s unamused face, “I believe _name tags_ are in order for the entire regiment.” He noticed a minute twitch of the captain’s lips at his remark. “Come on, sir, you don't want this to happen again do you?," he managed to grin cheekily. Everyone appeared amused at his comment, including Doctor Devereaux who was tending to the bandage on his head.

“I will see what King Louis says to that suggestion, lad,” Treville grinned, happy that there was some humor to find from this mishap. “As to _Brinelle_ ,” he shot a look at Aramis, “stables did you say?”

“Oui,” Aramis winked at d’Artagnan.

Putting his hat back on his head, Treville patted the boy on the shoulder. “I never thought new recruits could be hazardous to one’s health,” he opened the infirmary door to leave, “then again it takes an incident like this to open my eyes."

As the door closed behind the captain, Porthos had a look on his face the others became wary of. “Who wants ta place bets on the captin’s punishment for this Brinelle character?”

“I’m in,” Aramis grinned with mischief dancing in his eyes.

“So am I,” Athos ruffled d’Artagnan’s hair. “What about you, pup?”

“I’m broke or near it,” d’Artagnan rolled his eyes, "as you very well know after cleaning me out of most of my pay last night when we played cards," he pouted. "Here I thought Porthos was the card shark of the group," then a sly smile covered his face. “But you can bet enough to win for the both of us, Athos,” he laughed as Athos made a face.

“Our d'Artagnan knows his way around you, Athos,” Aramis chuckled.

“Too much so,” Athos pretended to brood over the pup’s impertinence. "All right since d'Artagnan is laid up with a concussion betting for both of us is the least I can do to help him recuperate."

"That's a wonderful incentive to get back on your feet, lad," Aramis leaned shoulder to shoulder against Porthos while watching Athos settle d'Artagnan back under the covers. "I'll bet Brinelle will have to muck out the stables for a month."

"Parade duty for at least a month?" Porthos said with relish. "If I had my way it'd be a whole damn year!"

"Night duty at the palace for longer than that," Athos grinned. "What of you Rene... you in?"

"Not me," Rene shook his head. "I'm like d'Artagnan here, broke until next pay." Then hearing some loud noise coming from outside he turned and walked toward an open window.

Wondering what caught Rene's attention, Aramis grew curious. "Something wrong, Rene?"

Signaling for Aramis and Porthos to come over, Rene pointed out the window. "I believe Captain Treville located Brinelle."

They all watched, and could hear quite clearly, the captain reaming out the hapless recruit. Treville even swatted the youngster with his own hat he was that mad. It went on for several minutes until Brinelle was seen to slink away, his head bent down in shame.

++++

Down in the courtyard, Treville knew he had an audience as he turned around to stare back up in the open window of the infirmary where three Musketeers stood clapping their hands. So he swept out his arm dramatically holding his hat and bowed before them. Shaking his head, Treville muttered to himself about what he does for his men. Then he headed for his office.

++++

Back in the infirmary, the three of them came back to d'Artagnan's bedside laughing.

"Did Treville punish him?" Athos noted their amused faces and glanced down at d'Artagnan who decided to ignore all of them and went to sleep.

"Don't know yet," Porthos grinned. "But we sure did hear the captin's voice loud and clear."

"Later we'll all find out who won the bet," Athos stood up with a last glance at d'Artagnan. "He looks like such an angel when he's sleeping."

"But a sneaky one when wide awake," Porthos smiled at the astonished reactions from his brothers. "I never saw one for pullin' pranks and appearin' as innocent as a babe."

"For now d'Artagnan's resting peacefully," Aramis placed his hand lightly on the child's forehead, murmuring a quick prayer. "He can turn into a _sneaky_ petit Musketeer on the morrow."

"I for one hope to clean up on my bet," Athos placed his hat on his head and headed for the door," especially since I'm betting for two." The other three men followed close behind.

"Ya aint gonna win cause I will," Porthos winked at Aramis.

As Porthos walked on ahead to catch up with Athos, Aramis hung back with Rene. Speaking softly he said, "Methinks a petite bird will whisper in the captain's ear shortly of the perfect punishment." Rene's snuff of laughter brought about an answering smirk from the older man as with one last look at d'Artagnan, Aramis quietly closed the door.

The End


	2. Beware of New Recruits... Period! (Part II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Jenn who wanted more.
> 
> ++++

_Musketeer Garrison_

The suggestion of name tags for the Musketeers was sadly rejected by King Louis, much to d'Artagnan's dismay since he was the one who brought it up in the first place. As to Brinelle's fate, his punishment earned Athos a hefty pot that he split with d'Artagnan. Seems like the new recruit was sentenced to two months straight night duty at the Royal Palace. So now things could get back to what passed for normal routine at the garrison... _or perhaps not_.

++++

Another day... a few more mishaps in the form of three new recruits that went by the names of _Henri_ , _Walkelin_ and _Claude_ , or otherwise known as the _three ineptitudes_.

It started out innocently enough when Claude wanted to spar with d'Artagnan. The youngest of the regiment felt pleased that someone so new had asked this of him. So joining Claude in the courtyard he gave the other man pointers that had been passed on to him by his friends.

Trying to put into practice what he preached, d'Artagnan realized it would be an uphill battle only after ten minutes. It appeared to him that Claude had inherited two left feet as every time the other man made a feint here or lunge there with his sword, Claude always ended up face first in the dirt. Starting to lose count of how many times d'Artagnan helped the younger man to regain his footing, he felt frustration building.

Once more d'Artagnan began his tutelage. "En garde!" he shouted. This time though was different than the others. This time d'Artagnan ended up on the ground with Claude laying smack dab on top of him. Pushing the other man off his body in disgust, d'Artagnan got unsteadily to his feet, shook off the loose dirt from his uniform and observed Claude doing the same. "My apologies," d'Artagnan said with feigned sincerity. "But I have other training to attend too with Rene shortly." He lied of course, but d'Artagnan was afraid that if he kept pushing Claude, one of them would end up maimed. And at the rate this practice session had gone... luck would not have been smiling kindly on d'Artagnan.

++++

It was Walkelin who next asked for Aramis' help with his marksmanship handling a musket. Setting up several targets, Aramis passed over his wealth of knowledge to the other recruit. When he stepped back to observe if his lessons had taken hold, Aramis ended up covering his face with his hand, peeking out between his fingers at the damage Walkelin had wrought.

The first time it happened, Walkelin took aim ( _not careful aim mind you_ ) completely missing his target and somehow managing to shoot the hat clean off of Athos' head as the Musketeer had been standing near one of the benches talking to Porthos.

Seeing his hat sailing off into the wind, Athos frowned. When he retrieved it, Athos poked several fingers through a rather large hole in it.

"That one right owes ya a new hat," Porthos grunted, as both he and Athos turned to look at the guilty culprit who appeared ready to run out of the garrison after seeing what he had done.

"Try again," Aramis encouraged his charge for the day as he walked over to his two brothers. "Apologies, Athos," he shrugged. "What can I say?" Aramis grinned sheepishly, "he's in the learning stages yet."

"Better learn fast," Porthos' voice deepened with menace. "There's only so many hats we can afford to keep buyin' ifin' he keeps on this way."

So, Walkelin calmed his nerves somewhat and aimed again, more carefully this time ( _or so he thought_ ). Perhaps Walkelin should have had a few words with his musketball as it seemed to take on a life of its own veering to the right and shooting a tray full of hot food out of old Serge's hands.

The foulest language you ever heard split the air as Serge turned his furious gaze on Walkelin. "Do I look like one of em' damn targets!" Serge yelled, picking up the wasted food from the ground. "Better get a new pair of eyes in that head of yours," he muttered as he headed back to his kitchen, "or you might end up blowin' a hole through one of the Musketeers next."

Holding up one of the victims, Athos grimaced. "Does a hat count?" he looked at Serge who stared at the damage to Athos' hat and began grumbling again until he disappeared through the canteen doors.

"Ifin' I was you, Aramis..." Porthos started to say.

"Yet, you are not," Aramis snapped.

"I'd call a halt to this before somethin' worse occurs," Porthos finished.

Ignoring the suggestion, Aramis turned and gave a sympathetic smile to Walkelin, who by that time looked ready to pack it all in. "Just one more try," Aramis gave the recruit a thumbs up gesture.

Sure enough Walkelin's last shot is the one that would go down in Musketeer history. The trajectory of the musketball this time sailed high into the air hitting a plaque that was suspended above Treville's office door. Talk about bad timing. Just as the captain was leaving his office Treville was hit sideways from the plaque as it became unhinged from the shot.

Laying dazed on the hard wooden deck, Treville moaned as he rubbed his aching shoulder. Managing to sit up unaided he noticed the plaque laying beside him. Picking it up Treville laid it on his lap as he read the words that were ingrained in his mind. It was the Musketeer's motto... _All for one and one for all!_ It had hung there for inspiration and now sported a new design courtesy of Walkelin's musketball.

Staring at the hole in the center of the plaque, Treville traced its outline with a shaky finger. Regaining his feet, he leaned over the railing and roared. " _WHO IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS?_ " he shook the plaque in the air for all to see. His eyes narrowed in on Aramis who appeared to wince at the display.

Stabbing his Musketeer with an angry look, Treville grimly watched as Aramis stepped forward. "I know this is not of your doing," he snapped roughly. Looking around the courtyard, his sharp blue eyes zeroed in on a lone figure standing near where the targets were situated. Crooking a finger at him he barked, _"YOU... MY OFFICE... NOW!_ "

So much for target practice, Aramis mused to himself.

++++

Saving the best ( _or should I say worst_ ) for last, we now have Henri's turn. Porthos feared nothing. No man or beast was he afraid of... he would come to regret that shortly for _fear_ had a new name, that of... _Henri the terrible_.

"All right, boyo," Porthos grinned like a cat with a satisfied full belly, "show me what ya got and then I'll show ya mine!"

Grappling with the well muscled Musketeer, Henri admitted to himself that he was outclassed in the size department. But somehow, and Henri still didn't know how it came about, he managed to wriggle free of the dark-skinned man's grasp.

Surprise clearly registered on Porthos' face as the next thing he saw was Henri's fist coming his way. But he couldn't dodge it fast enough and so later he would find himself bringing down the swelling of a black eye with a bag of ice and listening to Aramis' commentary on the benefits of _ducking_.

_And so it continued..._

Backpeddling away from Porthos as the Musketeer charged him, Henri at least knew how to _duck_ as he fell to the ground. But Porthos, not being able to stop his momentum, kept on going and eventually fell right over Henri's body, landing in a heap on the ground with a loud thud.

Taking advantage of this once in a lifetime moment, Henri pounced on the other man as they rolled together. Suddenly Porthos' strangled voice sounded pitiful as he moaned, rocking back and forth as he grabbed at his privates. It was then Henri realized what he had innocently done to the giant. "I didn't... didn't mean... didn't mean to kick you there," he stuttered, eyes darting left and right taking in the fact that they had gained an audience in the meantime. Afraid Porthos would want revenge, Henri took off for parts unknown. Later it would be said that no one was able to locate his whereabouts.

++++

_Much, much later in the afternoon - Musketeer canteen_

Putting his lager down, d'Artagnan glanced at the morose features of his three friends. They gave the appearance of men who had seen battle and lost. For himself, d'Artagnan had pushed his sad encounter with Claude to the back of his mind as a great learning experience in teaching the inept. "So how went your day?" He was amused as to the odd faces the inseparables turned his way.

"Target practice could have gone better," Aramis mumbled into his wine glass. "Treville's going to need a new plaque above his door too."

D'Artagnan raised his brows in pretended curiosity as to what had befallen the plaque but of course he already knew.

"I'm in need of a new hat," Athos downed his glass of wine in one go.

Almost spitting out the chunk of cheese he was currently munching on, d'Artagnan managed to swallow it without choking. He just wished he had been present when the _hat affair_ had taken place.

"I'm gonna have ta have someone else spar with the new recruits for a time," Porthos grimaced as he touched his swollen eye and gingerly squirmed about on his chair.

Knowing what caused his friend's _black eye_ , d'Artagnan did think it looked rather painful ( _and we all know why, don't we?_ ). As for Porthos' _fidgits_ , d'Artagnan smiled into his glass as he finished his lager.

"How was your day?" Aramis finally asked the pup.

"Good," d'Artagnan smiled pleasantly. "Captain Treville put me in charge of a new recruit."

"His name wouldn't perchance be _Walkelin_?" Aramis arched his brow, throwing an amused grin over at Athos and Porthos.

"Oui," d'Artagnan's lips twitched. "I had Claude earlier but I advised the captain that he'd be better off with a more seasoned soldier than I."

"He was _that_ good?" Athos arched both brows, not believing for one second that d'Artagnan couldn't take down a raw recruit.

"Non," d'Artagnan laughed. "He was that _bad_." To which his three comrades finally found something to find amusing. "There was to have been another one but for some reason no one can locate where the man's run off too." He knew very well what had previously happened but played the innocent. "I've met Walkelin and he appeared quite a docile chap." Standing up, d'Artagnan bowed and stared directly into Aramis' bemused eyes. "My thanks for breaking him in." When he turned twinkling eyes toward Porthos, d'Artagnan bowed once again. "I owe you my thanks as well."

"What for?" a frown creased Porthos' forehead wondering what the pup meant.

"Scaring Henri away," laughing all the way out of the canteen, d'Artagnan was content with how the day had all played out in his favor.

The End (again)


End file.
